How to Train Your Trojan
by HaloFin17
Summary: Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** It's been too long since I wrote for the Troy fandom, and frankly, I've missed it. I'm taking some liberties with the timeline in this story, as I need events to last longer than in the movie but still much shorter than in the book. Another important note is that Briseis is NOT related to the Trojan royal family in this AU, and the reasons why will become apparent in later chapters. Enjoy!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 1**

 _Hector – Breaker of Horses_

Clearly, the gods did not lack a morbid sense of irony.

For Prince Hector, the grandest warrior in Troy, now found himself face-to-face with the deadliest predicament of his life – and all because a spooked horse had thrown him.

On King Priam's orders, the Trojan army had today ventured closer to the Argive encampments than ever before, hoping to perhaps catch them off guard and deliver a crushing blow to their ships. Sadly, such had not been the case. The Trojans' southern flank had suffered most under the retaliatory hailstorm of Greek arrows, and Hector, after shouting a command for General Glaucus to lead the rest of the army in retreat, had ridden to the aid of his beleaguered troops. But he'd never reached them.

He still didn't know exactly what had startled his steed so badly – maybe a serpent partially hidden in the sand, or even the capricious whim of some deity. At any rate, the horse had bolted, carrying Hector beyond his own soldiers and into a small wooded area that had lately served as the chief source of fuel for Greek funeral pyres. Those trees had ultimately been his undoing. The horse had weaved madly in its prolonged terror, and Hector had only been able to dodge so many thick, gnarly branches before one finally caught him in the midriff and sent him tumbling. Had he fallen on sand, the damage would likely have been minimal; but the ground was rockier here, and he landed awkwardly.

Pain lanced up his right leg, and a sickening _crunch_ reached the prince's ears as he felt something snap inside his ankle. Separated now from horse and friends, Hector crawled along on his stomach as well as he was able, and no doubt staying so low to the ground saved him from being shot. He didn't dare call for help, as any such efforts were now far more likely to attract his enemies. A quick estimate of his position suggested that he was already behind Greek lines, although miraculously still undetected.

The wounded Trojan dragged himself onward. Instinct drew him in the wrong direction, coming even closer to the ships, but his ultimate destination was the one place within reach where he knew he might be safe – at least temporarily.

Hector had known of this little ravine for years. Getting there proved no easy task, scrambling over sharp rocks and protruding tree roots; but at last he arrived and half-slid, half-fell down to the gully's floor. Exhausted, covered in sand and sweat, he lay gasping for breath a few moments before finally addressing his injuries. His chest ached terribly with every breath, leading him to guess that he had damaged some ribs in the fall as well. His ankle, meanwhile, was horribly swollen, and he could scarcely coax any movement at all from his foot. He certainly couldn't walk for the time being, as the ankle would by no means support his weight, and climbing out of the gully before he was fully healed seemed more of a prayer than a possibility.

Surrounded by steep walls and hedged by thick shrubbery on all sides, the ravine had always been a good place to play and to hide in his youth. Now he was here again, wounded and hiding for his life behind enemy lines. The natural stone walls offered shelter from the sea wind, which would be a blessing at night when the temperature dropped. But currently, at the peak of daytime's oppressive heat, this lack of airflow was stifling. At least he had plenty of water, provided by a clear stream that ran through the length of the ravine, and Hector painfully crawled over to splash his hands and face.

What a disastrous battle it had turned out to be! Hector rather doubted his father would call for such a costly campaign again anytime soon. Without their prince, the Trojans were surely being driven back with grievous loss now, and Hector raised his head as the familiar, hateful chant of "Achilles!" rose in the air – much too close for comfort. What if his hiding place was near to the Myrmidon ships? And if so, how much further did that fact decrease his chances of survival? He had no way of knowing for certain. But by Poseidon, that Achilles was going to be the death of him, one way or another, by the time all was said and done!

 _Breaker of Horses._ Hector snorted under his breath in disgust. _Breaker of Bones_ was more like it.

* * *

Patroclus had stumbled across the secluded gully shortly after the Greeks' arrival in Troy, and it had quickly become his favorite haunt when he needed to temporarily escape either his cousin's overprotective smothering or the rowdiness of the other soldiers. He found it easier to commiserate with his countrymen in defeat than to celebrate with them in victory, and today was very much an example of the latter. The youth simply felt that he didn't deserve to participate in the festivities; after all, he wasn't really a soldier yet, and he wouldn't be until he had killed his first Trojan in combat. They had been here for several months now, and still Achilles had allowed him no taste of battle.

That was why his feet led him back to the ravine now, seeking a few moments of solitude and quiet away from the others. Eudorus probably would have called it shameless brooding, but Patroclus didn't care; the brief escape truly did help to calm his thoughts and quiet his emotions. However, as he reached the gully's edge, the teenaged Greek abruptly realized that he would find no solace in this place tonight. Apparently, someone else had already beaten him to it.

The boy hesitated, debating whether he should stay or leave, yet his curiosity ultimately proved stronger than prudence. Keeping low, he peered through the shrubs and noted with instant amazement that the intruder below was in fact a Trojan – a straggler from the battle! Or perhaps even a cleverly-planted spy, taking advantage of this ideal shelter as a base of operations? It was difficult to tell in the fading light, but that dusty armor appeared very fine indeed, like something befitting a member of the Apollonian Guard.

Patroclus' heart sped to a gallop inside his chest, while a flurry of excitement and nerves raced through his blood like an electric charge. What should he do now? He could tell Achilles, which was probably the smartest course of action and would certainly guarantee the man's death. Or he could fetch a weapon and go down to dispatch the soldier himself. The latter was sorely tempting, as the defeat of an elite warrior such as this would surely garner some respect for him even among the Myrmidons. This could be exactly the opportunity he'd been hoping for!

But then, as he watched, the youth realized with shameful tardiness that this particular Trojan had an injured leg and was unable to walk. He couldn't possibly fight to defend himself now, no more than he could escape back to the city in this condition. Such handholds that existed for climbing in and out of the ravine were precarious at best – a surmountable challenge for a hale man, but not a wounded one.

Patroclus had explored enough of the ravine to know that it drew to a dead end in the east, and in the west, it narrowed until there was just enough space to let the little creek run out to the Aegean. Clearly, the Trojan wasn't going anywhere anytime soon – but it was high time Patroclus did. He slipped away as quickly and quietly as possible, back to the Myrmidon camp where he went straight to his tent without sparing a single glance for his comrades. He couldn't trust that his own eyes wouldn't somehow betray what they had seen only moments before.

The youth shared his tent with Eudorus, Achilles' second-in-command; partly because Patroclus knew Eudorus best out of all his cousins' devoted followers, but no doubt also because Achilles wanted the older man to keep an eye on his ward for as long as the Myrmidons were on enemy shores. Patroclus lay down with his back to the door, but he was still wide awake when a somewhat intoxicated Eudorus returned to his own bed much later. Fortunately, that meant he slept soundly, not to be disturbed by the endless tossings and turnings of his young companion.

* * *

After a restless and largely sleepless night, Patroclus had finally allowed his conscience to overpower his bloodlust – such as it was. He wanted to fight, absolutely! But killing a trapped, wounded soldier would prove nothing in regard to his own skill or bravery in combat, no matter who that soldier might be; it would only prove his utter lack of honor. And if Patroclus knew nothing else about Achilles, he knew that the man valued honor as highly as his own life.

So later that day, while the armies were engaged, the boy's thoughts lingered more on the wounded Trojan than on the fact that he'd once again been left behind. That alone was an almost pleasant change, having something new and different to distract him. Yet the more he dwelt on it, the more Patroclus realized that, left as he was, the Trojan soldier was doomed to die a slow death of starvation and exposure; and that thought sat no easier on his heart than did the idea of taking his sword to the man's throat.

After midday, his conscience could endure no more, and Patroclus set off again for the ravine, carrying some fruit and bread with him in a small satchel. He didn't see the Trojan upon arriving. Was the man hiding now, or had he somehow manage to flee after all? As improbable as the second option seemed, a god's favor certainly could have orchestrated it. Nevertheless, the lad climbed carefully down into the gully, deposited the food near the stream, and hurried back up again without once looking behind.

He slept much better that night, his conscience appeased, and the next day he returned with more food, anxious to see if his first offering had been discovered. The food of yesterday was gone, but the satchel was still nicely intact – a clear sign that no wild animal had raided its contents. Patroclus still couldn't see anyone, but he left the food with confidence this time before climbing back out of the ravine.

He couldn't help feeling a moment of panic, however, when Eudorus approached him later that evening and simply stated, "I need to talk with you – in private."

Patroclus felt his mouth go dry with dread as he instinctively followed the older man inside their tent. Eudorus looked a little more subdued than usual. Did he already suspect, or even know, of Patroclus' secret deeds? The boy tried with moderate success to quiet his fidgeting hands; but even so, his eyes roved anxiously to and from the darkest corners of the tent, looking anywhere except Eudorus' face.

"Is something wrong?" he managed to ask with a straight face.

Eudorus only sighed at first, taking a seat on his bed and motioning for Patroclus to follow suit. When he did speak, his voice reflected the same unease that tightened the younger Greek's chest.

"This war has been going on for some time now," he began at length, "longer than most of us would have expected or wanted." The warrior shook his dark head. "Patroclus, Achilles is the best warrior I've ever seen…but I don't know that he's invincible. He may believe himself to be, which is why he hasn't had this conversation with you himself. But for all his skill, your cousin is not a god – and even he cannot guarantee safety here for those under his protection."

The tension immediately left Patroclus' shoulders as he understood that this conversation had nothing to do with his mysterious Trojan. But in that case, what was Eudorus trying to tell him?

"As far as we know, the Trojans are not even aware of your presence here," the other continued, "and that is an advantage we must protect at all cost."

Patroclus frowned anew at the urgency in his companion's voice and the intensity in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You are Achilles' ward and kinsman – just think how valuable you could be as a hostage!" Eudorus explained earnestly. "And you know that your cousin cares more deeply for you than for any other human being on this earth. The Trojans could ask virtually anything of him in exchange for your safety, and he would do it. They must never learn who you are, Patroclus, or this war will become even more dangerous for both you and Achilles. Do you understand?"

The youth nodded. "I do. But what am I supposed to do, then, if by some chance the Trojans do capture me before the war is over? They will most likely know that I come from the Myrmidon camp."

"I agree. So if it ever becomes necessary, I want you to say instead that you're my servant. That will give you a plausible connection to the Myrmidons, and hopefully make you valuable enough in other ways that they won't kill you outright. They may even ask me to pay a ransom for you, at a price far less than what they might demand of Achilles; and of course, I would comply."

"All right." Patroclus forced a smile then and tried to lighten their spirits by half-joking, "I don't know much about acting, but I suppose I can try my best to play the part. If I'm your slave, then what's my history? Am I a captive from one of your earlier war campaigns?"

Eudorus' somber expression didn't waver. "Since you are clearly Greek, I think it would be better to say that your parents died when you were younger and entrusted you to the care of a relative – an elder cousin, if you like. But for the story to work, we'll need your imaginary cousin to be less kind than your real one. Let's say he later sold you to me in order to repay a debt."

The boy balked visibly at those last words. "That seems a little…harsh. Don't you think?"

But his companion gently reasoned, "Your eyes are still pained whenever there is mention of your parents; that will work to your advantage in this tale, unfortunate though it may be. And Odysseus will tell you that the best lies always contain some grains of truth. Patroclus, promise me you'll remember this and use it, should the need ever arise."

Patroclus heaved a deep sigh in his turn now. Clearly, Eudorus meant well in this matter, desiring not only to protect a young friend, but also his revered lord. Yet one thing still puzzled him. "Why are you talking to me about this now, when we've already been at Troy for months? You've clearly put a lot of thought into this whole scheme."

"I admit it has been on my mind ever since our arrival," Eudorus confessed with an empathetic smile. "But now I can see that you're more restless than ever; and the longer we're here, the greater the chance that Achilles will finally grant your wish and allow you to fight."

Perhaps those words had been meant to encourage him; but the youth remained silent, thinking that his most recent anxiety, if Eudorus had noticed it, stemmed from an entirely different source.

The Myrmidon captain went on, "I also do this now because Prince Hector has been notably absent from the battle for a couple of days, and if he is injured, it was no Greek who struck the blow. Odysseus wonders if the Trojans might be plotting some sort of trickery, and I want you to be prepared, Patroclus – just in case. There's no telling what strange events the gods may bring forth in a war such as this."

 _Strange indeed,_ Patroclus mused. Such as finding a lone Trojan warrior stranded behind the Greek lines.

A Trojan warrior who had been placed directly under his mercy…but he couldn't bring himself to deliver the killing blow. Couldn't – or wouldn't? Any other Greek would have killed this Trojan by now, or at least captured and tortured him for information regarding the city's defenses. A real soldier would have done so! But Patroclus had not, and the shame of it almost consumed him. All the same, wasn't this an honorable deed in its own way, lending aid to an individual in dire need? Or did the fact that he was helping a Trojan make it an act of treachery instead?

It all resulted in another restless night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** It sounds like I confused most readers with my allusions to "How to Train Your Dragon," so you'll all just have to take my word that it's a very well-made movie, in which "Hector" is a fearsome dragon and "Patroclus" is a skinny Viking. All the more reason to say a big "Thank you!" to those of you who read and reviewed in spite of the confusion, and now I hope you enjoy Chapter 2!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 2**

Hector knew the nooks and crannies of this gully better than the young Greek who had discovered his hiding spot by accident, only to then be shockingly helpful. The prince had hidden initially because he'd expected the lad to return at any moment with a force of Argive soldiers to flush him out – not with food that Hector could scarcely have found on his own at present.

But it was a dangerous game to let this odd, unspoken truce continue, and so today he planned to confront the youth. Not to do him any harm (at least, not at first), but to ascertain his intentions. Hector hid himself behind a large boulder along the path his benefactor had taken on the previous two visits and waited. Sure enough, the Greek returned at the same time and descended into the ravine by the same route as before; the predictability betrayed his naïveté indeed! And this time he had also brought a blanket along with the usual supply of food.

Once the youth had left these latest provisions beside the stream and turned to go, it was simple enough for Hector to stretch out his good leg and trip him. The prince's injured ribs restricted him to a large extent; but by utilizing the element of surprise along with the leverage of his weight, he managed to grapple the Greek to the ground and hold a dagger at his throat. The boy (for truly, he could not be described otherwise) didn't resist the treatment, but stared up at his attacker in open shock and fear.

"What are you doing?" The young Greek sounded almost insulted, but Hector only tightened his grip to warn against further noise.

"I think you need to answer that question first, boy," he demanded in a low voice.

"I'm just trying to help you!"

"Why?"

The youth faltered briefly before declaring with conviction, "Because you're trapped and wounded here like an animal, and that's no way for a soldier to die – even a Trojan soldier."

Hector narrowed his brown eyes without releasing his hold. "Have you told anyone else that I am here?"

"If I had, you wouldn't be alive right now."

The composure of that response impressed the prince, and he saw no deception in the boy's countenance. How fortunate that his refuge should be found by one so young, whose heart was not yet corrupted by the malice of their war.

"What's your name?" he asked at length.

"Patroclus," the other answered without hesitation. "And I swear by Athena whom the Greeks revere that I mean you no harm. May her judgement be on my head if I reveal your presence here."

Those may have been nothing more than the empty words of a young man desperate to escape, but Hector could hardly expect anything better at this point. After all, Patroclus had not betrayed him yet, even with no such vow to restrain his tongue; and so the prince let him go. The boy quickly regained his feet while Hector settled back, grimacing, against the same boulder behind which he had hidden.

Curious, Patroclus peered around to see where his attacker had come from, and too late Hector remembered what he had left there – his own helmet with that famous horsetail plume, by which foes and friends alike recognized him. And this boy was no exception. Without bothering to hide his surprise, he hastily took a few steps backward, while his wide blue eyes never left the Trojan.

"Prince Hector?"

Hector said nothing, but his silence was as sure as any spoken confirmation.

Patroclus looked like he expected the wounded man to suddenly jump up and this time follow through on the threat to cut his throat. "You should have killed me." He sounded resigned, as though the deed was already as good as done.

"Perhaps." Hector held his gaze steadily, rather surprised that the boy hadn't bolted. "But if I slay you or detain you, you will be missed, and the searchers may very well find this place. It would seem I truly am at your mercy, my young Achaean.""

It took a few moments more, but the truth of that statement appeared to finally put Patroclus at ease.

The Trojan continued, "If anything, I am the one who is undone; for surely you must tell your superiors about me now, oath or no."

There was no point denying it. Hector wasn't afraid to die; in fact, he'd quite expected that he should fall at some point during this war. But he did not savor the thought of dying as an object of Greek sport, whereupon his mangled corpse would then be used to taunt his loved ones back in Troy.

Clearly conflicted, the youth at last averted his eyes from his enemy's face; but still he did not flee. "You spared my life here today," he said at last, "and I will do the same for you if I can. My promise still stands, even if you are the Crown Prince of Troy."

"All the same, I have naught but your word to protect me."

"My word is all I can give you."

That simplistic nobility almost brought a smile to the prince's lips. If he indeed spoke true, then this boy had more honor than most of the royals in Hector's acquaintance.

* * *

Prince Hector! Patroclus left the confrontation with his heart pounding and adrenaline surging. Eudorus had mentioned that the Trojans had been without their prince lately, but Patroclus never would have suspected that he'd been helping the man all along. Just imagine what Achilles would do to Hector, if he found him like this! Or to Patroclus, if he knew what was happening behind his back.

For perhaps the first time in his life, the youth spent the remainder of the day grateful to be ignored by his comrades. He pointedly avoided both Eudorus and his cousin, feigning sleep when the former joined him inside their tent later that evening.

He hadn't told Hector that he would return again the following day, but in all honesty, it never occurred to Patroclus that he should not go. It was almost easier going back today, now that his vow had essentially committed him to the prince's wellbeing. None of Hector's injuries had looked life-threatening yesterday, but Patroclus still brought some bandages and medicine with him to the ravine that afternoon. A simple herbal ointment would at least help to cleanse the smaller flesh wounds and prevent them from becoming infected.

"Will these supplies be missed?" Hector asked after the two had exchanged an uneasy greeting.

Patroclus shook his head, unconcerned. "No one will miss medical supplies like these when they're in such high demand across all the camps. And I've spent a lot of time helping the healers recently, so it's not unusual for me to be seen taking these items."

It was true. With the battlefield still forbidden to him, the teen had tried to keep busy by applying himself to the area where he saw the greatest need – the healing tents. Now he helped Hector by tending to wounds that the prince was incapable of reaching on his own. Setting the ankle properly proved more difficult, but Hector had once had a similar injury in his youth; and so between his and Patroclus' limited knowledge, they together managed to complete the task well enough.

"Thank you," the older man acknowledged wearily when they were finished. "Now there is nothing to do but wait and allow time to work its wonders."

"How long do you think it will take for you to heal?"

"Until I am well enough to leave this ravine on my own power and attempt the journey home?" Hector closed his eyes and looked as though he would rather not think about it. "I can only guess it will be at least a matter of weeks, if all goes well."

He then reached for the fresh food Patroclus had brought and, after the slightest of hesitations, offered some to the young Greek.

But Patroclus only grinned and shook his head. "Thank you, but that would defeat the purpose of my bringing it to you." He watched the Trojan eat in silence for a few awkward moments before concluding, "I should be heading back now. Is there anything else I can bring for you tomorrow, Prince Hector?"

"Hector."

When that single word drew a confused frown from his benefactor, Hector explained, "It doesn't seem right for you to call me 'Prince' when you hold the power of life and death over me, Patroclus. And no, I don't believe there is anything else I need now. You've done a great deal of good for me already."

* * *

More days passed, each including a secret rendezvous between a Greek teenager and a Trojan prince; and as the strange pair grew more comfortable in each other's presence, Patroclus began to linger longer and longer with each visit. He had adapted to addressing his companion simply as "Hector" out loud, although he couldn't completely drop the "Prince" title from his own private thoughts about the man.

"What is your business here, Patroclus?" Hector once asked him.

The youth blinked, confused, as though that answer should have been obvious. "I'm helping you."

The prince chuckled softly. "No, I mean here in Troy. You must not be a soldier, otherwise your afternoons would be spent on the battlefield rather than in this gully with me."

"Oh." Now comprehending, Patroclus reflected back on that conversation in the tent and slowly lied, "I am a servant of Eudorus, Achilles' second-in-command."

Hector nodded. "I know the man. I remember him most from the battle inside the temple when the Myrmidons first stormed the beach. I did not realize he was Achilles' right hand, but somehow it doesn't surprise me; he is a fierce fighter. How long have you been in his service?"

"About five years," Patroclus improvised. "My parents both died of sickness when I was ten, and I was given into the guardianship of my cousin, who was my nearest relative." Here he paused for a shaky breath, hoping that the delay would be seen as repressed emotion rather than uncertainty while he searched for the right words.

"My cousin was…fond of drink, which led to many unwise habits and decisions. Within two years, he had accumulated such debts that he decided to sell me as a means of paying them off. The Myrmidons were passing through our village at that time, returning to Phthia after some war campaign or another; and so it was the perfect opportunity for my cousin to ensure that I would be taken far away from him, with no chance of ever returning."

"I am sorry," Hector offered in all sincerity, his brow drawn in a deep frown. "Does Eudorus feel no remorse over his part in all of this?"

The boy merely shrugged. "Perhaps he saw that it would be best for everyone in the end. Eudorus may be a man of war, but he is a good man. In many ways, I really do feel that I'm better off with him than I was with my cousin; he has dealt very kindly with me, for the most part."

"For the most part?" Hector echoed.

Patroclus pasted a brittle smile on his face. "I can't imagine any slave is truly happy with his lot in life."

"I have known a few who claim to be, but that has been their lifelong vocation. They have never known anything else. You, however, were born a free man, forced into a life of servitude through no fault of your own. That is different. Do I judge correctly, then, that you are seventeen now?"

"I am, yes."

"And does Eudorus intend for you to fight here?"

The youth dropped his eyes to the ground before replying, almost reluctantly, "I have some training in combat, but so far, he has not asked me to fight."

"Good, I am glad to hear it. You are too young for a war like this, although it doesn't surprise me that the Myrmidons would give even their slaves and children some basic knowledge of swordplay. But it is interesting," the prince went on thoughtfully. "The only other Greeks I've seen with your coloring are Helen and Achilles, and they both have a claim to divine parentage. Are you sure you're not descended from some deity as well?"

His companion sounded half-teasing, albeit genuinely curious, which made Patroclus want to squirm. For how many times in recent years had he been told that he resembled his godlike cousin?

"My mother was more fair than most Greeks," he divulged in a low voice. "I'm sure that's all it is."

"How well do you remember your parents?"

"Well enough that I still miss them…but not nearly as well as I would like."

When it became clear the boy would say no more on that sensitive subject, Hector gestured toward the sinking sun and suggested, "You should probably leave soon. I wouldn't want you to get into any sort of trouble with your master."

Hearing Eudorus referred to as his "master" for the first time had a more profound impact on Patroclus than he would have anticipated. Despite knowing full well that it was a false claim, he felt an unpleasant knot twist and tighten in the pit of his stomach when those words were spoken aloud; surely the discomfort must have shown on his face as well.

"No one will be looking for me until later," he revealed at last. "It's easy for me to slip away as long as the armies are off in battle. I won't be missed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** I'm sorry this update took so very long! I can only blame myself...and Marvel...and Bucky Barnes, for totally stealing all my inspiration. Nevertheless, that appears to have temporarily run its course, so I've come back to the staple of Troy and Patroclus. So thanks for your patience, and enjoy Chapter 3!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 3**

The ravine's stone walls offered little protection from the wrath of a thunderstorm. Wrapped tightly in his blanket, Hector huddled in the gully's most sheltered corner while torrential rains whipped through his hair and lashed at his face. Another flash of lightening illuminated his surroundings, leading the prince to again reflect on the gravity of his situation.

He had now been a prisoner of this place for over two weeks; and while his health had improved noticeably in that time, he still wasn't ready to attempt an escape back to his city. To begin with, he couldn't even climb out of the gully on his own yet, so to think of anything beyond that just seemed pointless. But one thing was certain: he would be dead or dying right now if not for the unmerited kindness of a certain Greek slave boy.

Hector's demeanor toward Patroclus had grown softer and softer by the day, for the boy was generous without fail, even though he had absolutely nothing to gain in helping his enemies' prince. Hector had thought about the youth's sad story many times since hearing it, and invariably he found himself wishing that he could do something to restore the justice in that poor orphan's life – or, at the very least, to repay him for his daily aid. Slaves were bought, sold, or exchanged in both Greece and Troy every day, yet Patroclus' tale had been a particularly bitter one for Hector to hear.

And yet, in spite of all that, he couldn't lower his guard around Patroclus entirely. Even if the boy was a lowly slave with honorable intentions, he was still a _Myrmidon_ slave, and therefore had easier access than most to the prince's greatest rival. They had not spoken much of Achilles, as any mention of the Myrmidon lord clearly made Patroclus uncomfortable, prompting the lad to steer their conversation elsewhere.

It was strange, Hector thought. Was Achilles truly so fearsome that the mere utterance of his name was enough to make a noble-hearted youth cower? Or perhaps Patroclus worried that he might inadvertently betray Achilles in some way, if they spoke of him? Thankfully, the boy wasn't being forced to fight in a war that would surely get him killed, and he appeared to be in excellent health; but still, the Trojan was forced to wonder at times about the conditions of his benefactor's daily life.

* * *

"Don't tell me you're frightened of the storm?"

Patroclus blinked rapidly to rouse himself from where he had been staring out into the downpour. The sand near the entrance of their tent was wet from rainwater that the wind had blown inside.

"What?" he asked distractedly from his place on the floor.

Eudorus grinned down at him, amused. "This storm is a bad one, but you and I have both seen worse in Phthia. I wouldn't have expected you to be afraid of it."

"I'm not afraid," the youth retorted stiffly. "But Zeus is angry tonight, and I wonder what that means for the rest of us."

"Your cousin would say not to trouble yourself over the whims of the gods."

"Yes, but his mother is a goddess; he can afford to be nonchalant toward the gods, as long as he remains in her favor."

In truth, the younger Greek was worried about Hector, trapped in that gully while the storm raged on; it was sure to be his most difficult night spent there thus far. And so the following morning Patroclus crept back to the ravine as early as possible, bringing a couple of dry blankets for the prince.

"Are you all right?" he asked at once. The sincerity of his concern almost surprised the boy himself, but Hector did not comment on his earnestness.

"Don't worry," he told the youth with a reassuring smile. "The night was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it will take more than a little wind and water to kill me. Even Achilles must know that by now."

As usual, the Trojan's mention of his guardian caused Patroclus' heart to skip a beat, and he furtively dropped his gaze to the moist ground. No doubt Hector had noticed his discomfort whenever they talked about Achilles, however briefly, but he couldn't help it. The Trojan would simply have to draw his own conclusions on the matter, because Patroclus had no intention of ever telling him the truth.

Unfortunately, the youth's unease worked against him on both fronts, as Achilles later demonstrated when he joined his charge beside the fire that evening.

"Patroclus."

The boy greeted his kinsman with a sincere smile, as the two had not seen much of each other since Patroclus' forbidden discovery. He'd been so distracted by Hector lately that he didn't even realize how much he missed his guardian's company.

Achilles clapped a hand on the lad's shoulder as he sat beside him and asked, not without concern, "Are you well, Cousin?"

Patroclus' smile vanished, swept away by blind panic. Steeling his voice with nonchalance, he replied, "Of course, I am. The battle hasn't come anywhere near our ships yet, so why would you think that I'm not well?"

Achilles regarded him curiously, not sure if this was a more appropriate time to tease or affirm his young ward. "There's no need to be defensive, Patroclus. But it's been at least a couple of weeks since you last asked me to let you fight, and that's not like you at all. Are you having second thoughts?"

"No!" The denial left his lips instinctively, but now he had to think fast to come up with a plausible excuse for his apparent lack of interest. "Since asking every other day clearly hasn't worked, maybe I've decided to try a different tactic."

Fortunately, the response coaxed a bemused smile from his teacher, who remarked, "In the meantime, it's good to see that you're keeping busy elsewhere."

Patroclus almost winced at that, ashamed, and he flinched when suddenly Achilles grasped his chin in one callused hand, turning his head so that their eyes met. The boy's discomfort remained, but his kinsman must have misread it as depression about being kept away from the battle.

"Don't be too discouraged," the warlord spoke tenderly. "You have done all that I've asked of you since we arrived here, and I am proud of you, Cousin. Be patient; remember, your time is coming."

Patroclus did not sleep well at all in the wake of that conversation; he also took greater care than ever afterward to ensure that no one followed him on his daily trips to the ravine.

* * *

"Patroclus, what will become of you if Eudorus is killed here?"

Hector had been morbidly curious about that possible scenario for some time, and today, under the beating midday sun, he finally decided to ask.

The youth in question fidgeted visibly while replying, "I would rather not think about it…but I suppose his possessions would be divided amongst the other surviving Myrmidons."

"Including Achilles." Hector made sure it was a statement, not a question; after all, this was where he had hoped to direct their discussion.

Patroclus pursed his lips together, predictably uneasy. "Yes, I'm sure Achilles would have the first pick."

"And does that thought trouble you?" the prince prodded.

"Not as much as the thought of Eudorus dying." Patroclus now forced a nervous smile. "Besides, Achilles will take what he wants regardless of whether or not it's permitted."

If the boy had hoped to deflect Hector's interest with that last remark, all he had truly done was sow more seeds of doubt in Hector's mind regarding Patroclus' treatment amongst the Myrmidons.

"Did Achilles show any interest in you back when your cousin wanted to sell you?"

The youth's expression grew somber. "I…don't remember. I didn't even realize what was happening until it was much too late to resist."

Sensing that he may have pushed a little too far this time, Hector asked instead, "How goes the tide of battle lately?"

"With you missing, things are going very well for the Greeks. The Trojan army hasn't come within an archer's range of our ships ever since you disappeared." Patroclus clearly appreciated the change of subject, although his report made the prince's heart ache with worry.

He worried for his brother, Paris, who would now be burdened with an increasing amount of responsibility in his elder's absence; and despite Hector's love for his sibling, he had to admit that Paris had never exactly been a stellar model of leadership. He worried for King Priam, their father – an aged ruler whose blind faith in the gods and their priests often needed to be tempered by the more rational input of his firstborn.

Then, even more importantly, there was his wife, Andromache. She must be so sick with worry and with grief by now! Did she believe that Astyanax, their only child, was already doomed to grow up without a father? Or did she fear that it was only a matter of time before Achilles slaughtered her son, as he had done before to her father and all her brothers?

"I really _must_ get home," he mused aloud, feeling fresh anxiety and desperation twist inside his gut. "I need to protect my family, and I don't know how much longer Troy's army can keep the Greeks away from the city walls without me."

"I don't think you will have to wait much longer," Patroclus interrupted his thoughts. "It's already been three weeks. But once you are healed, how do you plan to get back to the city? Even if I wish you well, I cannot steal a horse or blind the sentries for you."

Hector nodded, understanding. "I know, and I would not ask you to do so. You have already done more than enough for me, Patroclus. If I can get out of the ravine at night, I will follow this stream southeast back to its source at the river. Then I can follow the river northward and eventually come upon the city from behind. It may take a few days, but that is the best path to avoid your watchmen."

Patroclus resolutely nodded his agreement with the plan. "When you are ready, I will make sure you have provisions for the journey."

"And then will you set your master upon my trail as soon as I am gone?"

"Of course not." The young Greek balked, looking hurt. "If you were to fight Eudorus on the battlefield tomorrow, I would have no choice but to hope for your death. But until that day comes, I have sworn that I will not use this situation against you. I thought you trusted me by now," he conclude ruefully.

But Hector only grinned at the boy's indignation. "I certainly do trust the integrity of your heart, Patroclus. That's why I'm so amazed that you would help me live to fight against your countrymen another day."

* * *

Less than a week later, the Prince of Troy judged that he was finally well enough to return to his besieged city. The journey would no doubt be a great struggle for him on foot, yet he could not afford to waste this perfect opportunity for escape – the night of the new moon, when the sky would be at its darkest.

As promised, Patroclus provided him with ample supplies, although the youth wanted to see for himself that Hector could climb unaided out of the gully that had been his prison for so long. And once the Trojan had offered a successful demonstration to put his benefactor at ease, it was time for the unlikely pair to say their goodbyes.

"I will never forget your kindness to me, Patroclus," Hector told him sincerely. "For what it's worth between a Greek and a Trojan in these troubled times, you have my friendship, as well as my eternal gratitude." He then extended his hand, which the younger man accepted without hesitation. "And if Troy's armies should ever reach your ships, I swear I will come looking for you and protect your life with my own."

Patroclus raised his eyebrows at that, simultaneously flattered and a little intimidated by such an offer. "Thank you…but I hope you never have a need to fulfill that promise."

Surprisingly, Hector smiled in reply. "I know, but I would be a thankless coward not to make it. Surely it would be best for both of us, I think, if we never saw each other again. May all the gods, patrons of Greece and Troy alike, watch over you."

"Godspeed on your journey, Hector."

Patroclus bowed his head in farewell, as it still seemed the fitting thing to do; and then he went back to the ships, knowing full well that if he returned to the ravine again tomorrow, Hector would be gone.

But at least he could rejoice that this whole secretive affair was now over, and from this point onward, the gods would decide their fates separately. Achilles might very well kill the Trojan prince the next time both warriors were on the battlefield, but at least that would be a death worthy of Hector, Breaker of Horses.

 **Author's End Note:** And no, trust me, this is not the end - far from it, in fact. Everything that's happened so far is pretty much just setting up more dramas and misunderstandings to come... Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** Thank you so much to everyone for the positive feedback on this story and for your patience while awaiting an update! Work in the real world has been rather all-consuming lately, but I'm happy to have finally have something to share with you now. We digress from canon even more in this chapter, going with a sort of compromise between book and movie that suits the overall purpose of my plotline. Hopefully it all works out. Thanks for reading!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 4**

Inside Troy's lofty walls, the entire city rejoiced for days as the royal family welcomed home their long-lost prince, raising hymns of praise to thank Ares and Apollo for their divine protection! Andromache alone had shed tears of joy for a full day without end. Hector's return journey had lasted nearly four days, as he'd been forced to take cover during the peak daylight hours, and now the final stages of his recovery were progressing well under the care of the city's finest healers.

"Your horse came back without you that day, well after the rest of the army had retreated inside the walls," King Priam explained to his eldest one afternoon when they were alone. "We all worried, of course, and we braced ourselves for either a high ransom demand from the Greeks or for them to taunt us with your desecrated body. When neither happened, we began to hope you had survived somehow. We searched as far and wide as we could without alerting the Greeks, but found no sign of you. Most people gave you up for dead then, but I never stopped praying to Apollo for your safety. I knew all along that you were in his hands, and now he has brought you home to me!" The old man's blue eyes shone with joy and gratitude like the sun in a cloudless sky.

And while naturally touched by his father's warmth, Hector knew better than to divulge exactly how he had survived his recent ordeal. Perhaps, if he lived to see the end of this war, he could then share Patroclus' story with those closest to him. But not yet.

Knowing of Priam's desire to credit divine intervention, he only said, "Indeed, Father. The gods saw me in my hour of need and found a way to bring me home alive."

* * *

The following week, Prince Hector returned to the battlefield, and not even Patroclus could be glad in secret when he saw how many Greek lives it cost. The only person who truly rejoiced with the prince's "miraculous" reappearance was Achilles – and not because he finally had an opponent worthy enough to challenge him.

In recent days, a rift had opened up between Greece's greatest king and her greatest warrior, and the source of their conflict, ironically, was a woman. While the priestess Briseis was no radiant beauty like Queen Helen of Sparta, her demeanor had charmed the heart of Achilles and subsequently incited the jealousy of Agamemnon. And Agamemnon, as though to assert his political power over Achilles, had simply taken the girl for his own.

In retaliation, the son of Peleus had withdrawn himself and his troops from all combat, much to Patroclus' dismay. Soon every Myrmidon felt the frustration of inactivity, and even when the war turned clearly in favor of the Trojans, Achilles' resentment remained implacable. In his eyes, Hector's daily path of destruction would only make Agamemnon feel the absence of Achilles all the more keenly.

But circumstances quickly grew desperate as the Trojans pushed nearer and nearer every day to the enemy camp, and together, Patroclus and Eudorus determined that they must either sway their fearless leader or watch the Greek ships go up in flames.

"We don't have to win the whole war for Agamemnon," Eudorus beseeched to concluded his arguments. "We need only secure some breathing room for the ships, otherwise the losses we've seen thus far will be nothing compared to what lies ahead."

"You mean that I could lose much more than the priestess," Achilles muttered, while his eyes lingered overtly on Patroclus. Truly, that would be a loss so terrible he could scarcely imagine it.

He went on, "I cannot personally fight for Agamemnon as long as that pig of a king refuses to make amends for his wrongdoing – but my men are still the fiercest warriors in Greece. Just this once, Eudorus, you have my leave to lead the Myrmidons into battle without me."

Patroclus immediately felt his face break into a smile at those words, so that he barely registered his cousin's stern warning that followed.

"But only push the enemy away from our ships, Eudorus. You must not go all the way to Troy!"

Preparations were made that very night for the Myrmidons to join their Greek brethren on the battlefield the following dawn, and word of it spread like wildfire. Every man in camp knew that the presence of the Myrmidons would make a tremendous difference in the battle, even if they were led by Eudorus rather than Achilles. The golden warlord himself selfishly stayed in his tent while his soldiers readied themselves for combat, as though he couldn't bear to further bless their efforts by watching them.

But amidst all the excitement that morning, Patroclus slipped away and donned the armor of a simple Ithacan foot soldier. He didn't need to share in the glorious return of the Myrmidons, yet he longed more than ever now to contribute to the Greek cause and to demonstrate to Achilles that he truly was ready. He could better blend in with the Ithacans, who were more numerous than the Myrmidons, and he knew that King Odysseus would lead his troops in battle more wisely than some of the other Argive kings. The Ithacans would still be positioned fairly close to the Myrmidons, however, and Patroclus would have to take care that he wasn't recognized by Odysseus or any of his cousin's men. There was always a chance that either his height or his fighting style might give away his identity in close quarters.

The collision of spears and shields in his first battle was both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. His senses overwhelmed by the stench of blood, the flash of bronze, and the screams of the dying, only his instincts born from so many hours of training saved him in that first foray. Then, as his nerves settled back down, the new challenge became not to dwell too long on the lives he was taking; no doubt the full brunt of the carnage would hit his ravaged innocence afterward.

But that initial disorientation had done its damage, and with his bearings temporarily lost, Patroclus had drifted much too close to the Myrmidons. He didn't even realize it until Eudorus' voice suddenly rang loud and harsh in his ears.

"Patroclus!" The veteran soldier grabbed the boy's sword arm in a vise-like grip. "What in Hades are you doing here? Do you have any idea what Achilles would do to you, or to all of us, if anything happened to you?" Though his words stung with anger, Eudorus' blue eyes conveyed only shock and concern for his lord's charge.

Without giving the sullen youth a chance to defend himself, he commanded, "Get back to the ships, now! Go quietly, and we may not even need to tell Achilles about all this foolishness. Thank the gods you're not hurt!"

Patroclus thought about arguing, but faced with the realization that he could not hope for a better offer from his elder, he hung his head without a word and turned to begin his inglorious retreat.

But meanwhile, unknown to both Greeks, Prince Hector had witnessed their entire exchange – seen it, but overheard nothing. Patroclus' familiar height and posture had betrayed him to the prince's eye, and he had then viewed their confrontation as that of an angry master and a recalcitrant slave who had been forced to fight against his will. It only made sense in his mind that, as a servant, Patroclus wouldn't have been dressed in the traditional black armor of a Myrmidon.

Feeling a surge of obligation and worry for his young friend, Hector gripped his sword tighter and blazed a trail of fury down toward the Myrmidons, with the Apollonian guard right at his heels. As unusual as it was to see these fearsome soldiers without Achilles at their head, it also provided an ideal opportunity that Hector was not likely to see again. For surely it was his responsibility now to protect Patroclus by any means necessary, just as he had promised at their parting. But in order to reach the slave, he must first get past the master.

Eudorus appeared more surprised than alarmed when he suddenly found himself face-to-face with the Trojan prince, and the exchange of a few blows revealed that Hector possessed every advantage in this fight. He soon knocked the Myrmidon off his feet with a vicious strike, only to leave him stunned there in the dust. He would not kill this man today, for Patroclus' sake.

And there ahead, finally, was the boy himself. Approaching swiftly, Hector grabbed his secret benefactor from behind and disarmed him easily amidst the surprise.

"Don't struggle," the prince whispered urgently, even as he shoved the youth into the hands of his own personal guard.

"Take this one alive," he instructed them. "Back to the city!"

As Trojan soldiers dragged him away on behalf of their commander, Patroclus' face radiated such panic and disbelief that it nearly broke down Hector's resolve. Yet the prince held firm to his intentions, knowing that he would have a chance to explain everything once they were securely alone together in Troy.

* * *

"What are you doing?!"

Although still trustful of this man whom he considered to be his friend, Patroclus' anger and confusion overrode all thought of pleasantries after he was alone with the prince. The youth's hands had been bound in front of him during the journey, and now he didn't flinch when Hector drew a knife to release him.

"Are you hurt?" Hector asked without preamble, catching his new captive entirely off guard.

"What? No, I don't think so. But why are you doing this?"

The Trojan then began to check Patroclus for injury himself before replying with calm determination, "You know I mean you no harm. I am only trying to help you as you helped me, and I hope you will see that this is for your own good."

"I spared your life and helped you return to your people," the boy retorted with no small indignation. "How does capturing me possibly return the favor?"

"You told me you weren't supposed to fight," Hector countered evenly.

Patroclus hesitated, fumbling for the first viable half-truth that came to his mind. "With Achilles out of the battle, we needed more men to compensate."

"A handful of slaves cannot replace Achilles," answered the prince with a derisive huff. "But of course, I know it was not your decision, so I cannot hold that foolishness against you."

Patroclus remained defensive all the same, remembering that it had been entirely _his_ decision. "I would have been fine out there."

"No, you would not. I watched you in today's battle, and you did better than I expected; but this war is no place for inexperienced soldiers, Patroclus. There are too many great warriors on both sides, and if you are compelled to fight, you will be killed. I owe you my life, and I will repay you by getting you out of battle and out of danger."

"By imprisoning me here for life?" the mortified youth questioned. "Or by selling me off into slavery in some distant land?"

But Hector patiently shook his head and sought to pacify his distraught companion. "To sufficiently protect you, I must keep you close; so I am taking you as a servant into my own household. I know I can trust you, and it won't be so different here. Besides, most people would see it as an improvement to serve a prince rather than a common soldier."

Patroclus tried to swallow, but his throat had suddenly gone dry. This was bad! Although Hector clearly meant well, he was oblivious to the true damage that had been done.

The Trojan continued, "If my city wins this war, I may even set you free after a time, in repayment of my debt to you."

Patroclus laughed, the expression so cold it surprised even himself. "If you win the war, that would mean Achilles and Eudorus are both dead. Where would I go, if suddenly given my freedom?"

And then with an abrupt, terrible thought, he demanded, "Where is Eudorus? Did you kill him out there today?"

Hector saw that mounting anger and spreads his hands, placating. "No, he was still alive last I saw. I beat him, but I did not kill him – for your sake."

"I never wanted nor meant for anything like this to happen," the boy entreated shamelessly, his voice rough. "Please, Hector, let me go back to them. Please."

The prince let out a heavy sigh, feeling another twinge of regret that nagged his conscience but could not hope to overpower his resolve. "I cannot simply let you go, now that I've taken you prisoner. Too many people know of it, and it would arouse suspicions. But I will see to it that you are treated well here, Patroclus. I give you my word that as long as I live, you shall want for nothing."

 _Nothing except my cousin._

"I belong with my countrymen; and even if I was a free man, I would choose to stay there with them."

"I believe you," Hector conceded, "but you do not belong in battle, either. Remember, it's not as though I'm asking you to betray your people."

"But I already have!" Patrolcus blurted out. "I betrayed them all the moment I found you in that ravine and didn't kill you. Fifty thousand Greeks came to Troy, and I'm the only one that wouldn't take your life or your freedom when given the opportunity. Now you personally will kill hundreds more of them before this war is finished."

The Trojan royal couldn't dispute that comment, asking instead, "Does Eudorus know that you helped me?"

"Of course not – no one else knows. But if you make it public here, word will reach the Greek camps. Please, I don't want them to know that I'm a traitor."

"Showing mercy to a wounded man doesn't make you a traitor to your nation," Hector attempted to console his prisoner. "I will say nothing of how you helped me, if that's truly what you want. But be warned, others may misinterpret my interest in you."

Patroclus didn't bother answering that remark; his life was already a lesson in "misinterpretations."

"Then I suppose I should start calling you 'Prince Hector' again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** Well, after not touching this story for months, I wrote the next chapter in just a couple of days. Apparently my muse is fickle. So thanks to one and all for your patience, and thanks for reading!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 5**

Achilles resembled nothing more than a prowling lion as he stalked the sand inside his tent, his blue eyes blazing.

Personally, Eudorus would have preferred a lion.

Bruised and battered after his brief clash with Hector, the Myrmidon captain sat beside Odysseus while Achilles paced in fury over the day's events. Fault for what had happened could not be laid on any one individual, yet the Ithacan felt some measure of responsibility considering Patroclus had infiltrated the battle disguised as one of his men. Secretly, Eudorus appreciated the king's presence, as his lord's volatile wrath could be spent just as easily against comrades and countrymen as it could against his enemies.

"I should be there at the gates _now_ , demanding his return!"

"You must not do anything rash, Achilles – please," entreated Odysseus. "We do not yet know how delicate this situation might be."

The agitated pacing paused. "What do you mean?"

"My lord," Eudorus interjected, as boldly as he dared, "Patroclus' position as your ward makes him immensely valuable. I spoke to him about this some weeks past and suggested that, if he ever fell into Trojan hands, he should claim to be my servant rather than your kinsman."

"A sound precaution," Odysseus noted with an approving nod. "But do you think he remembered to do so?"

The Myrmidon shook his head, answering truthfully, "I don't know. Patroclus is an intelligent lad, but who can say what truth he might let slip in the heat of the moment. He must be frightened."

Eudorus winced as he said it, knowing full well that such comments would do nothing to improve Achilles' temper; but he also worried for his young friend, as much as any of them. To have had the boy snatched out from under his nose like that! He should have noticed and gotten Patroclus out of harm's way sooner.

In the meantime, Achilles had resumed his pacing while Odysseus counselled him, "Patience is critical, my friend. If the Trojans learn who Patroclus is, I've no doubt they will send you a ransom notice of some kind soon enough. He is much too valuable for them to do nothing with him."

The warlord finally snapped in irritation, "This is my _cousin,_ Odysseus, and I will not have you talk about him like he's some kind of bargaining chip!"

"But to the Trojans, that's what he is," the Ithacan reasoned, gentle yet firm. "And while it may be painful to do so, we must respond in kind, at least to a certain degree. It's our only hope to keep the scales of power balanced. Remember, it is still possible that Hector has no idea whom he's actually caught, in which case it would be devastating for both of you if we were to reveal Patroclus' true identity."

"But why else would Hector capture him in the first place, if he didn't know who he was?" Achilles argued back, his expression troubled.

Eudorus spoke again, recalling, "Hector clearly wanted Patroclus in particular. He went after him so deliberately that it could not have been any sort of accident. If you don't hear from him by sundown, my lord, I will go to Troy tomorrow myself."

"Posing as the boy's master?" Odysseus surmised, to which his companion nodded.

"If nothing else, I will find out what Hector knows, or at least believes, about his prisoner."

No word arrived from the prince, of course, and so the long shadow of Troy's walls fell across Eudorus the following dawn as he arrived at the city to speak with Hector in hopes of securing his "slave's" release. According to Odysseus, his ransom offers could be generous but not extravagant, lest Hector grow suspicious of the boy's worth and then never surrender him.

Once Eudorus had declared his peaceful intentions in this visit, the Crown Prince emerged and stood face-to-face with him in the sand. Only with tremendous effort did the Myrmidon keep his nervous fingers away from the hilt of his sword. Hector was also armed, as would be expected, yet he did not appear nearly as anxious about the encounter.

"You know why I am here, Prince Hector?" Eudorus began, his words again reflecting Odysseus' advice from the night before.

"I do," the Trojan answered evenly, "and you need not have bothered to come. No ransom will persuade me to release Patroclus back into your hands."

Eudorus' stomach twisted uneasily at how casually Hector referred to his prisoner by name. What did that possibly indicate?

"Would you consider an exchange, then?" he tried instead. "There have been many slaves captured since the start of this war."

"In that case, you will not begrudge me keeping one for myself," Hector countered immediately. "He was taken in fair battle, and not even Achilles can say otherwise."

Eudorus almost flinched, genuinely surprised by the man's fervor. But before he could reply, Hector went on, his voice dangerously low, "Patroclus is just a boy; I can't believe you had him fighting."

"It was a mistake that he fought at all yesterday; believe me, it will not happen again!"

"Indeed not. Even so, that one 'mistake' could easily have cost him his life."

Eudorus' worry loosened his tongue at last, and he demanded, "But why do you care? What could you possibly want with a single Greek slave?"

The harsh edge faded from Hector's eyes. "Perhaps his is one innocent life I can spare in all of this bloodshed, rather than ending it. If Troy falls, you will have every opportunity to reclaim him; but unless that day comes, he will remain here in safety."

And though he did not understand why, Eudorus believed him. Perhaps those words had afforded him a glimpse into the prince's true motives, sufficient to put his mind at ease just a little.

"I can show him to you, if you like," Hector suggested after a moment. "If you desire further proof that he is unharmed."

Stunned this time by the gesture, the Myrmidon nodded his assent, and arrangements were quickly made to bring Patroclus to the royal pavilion inside the city, high enough that Eudorus could see him clearly. The boy certainly looked well enough, by all appearances, although Eudorus could see nothing of his face from this distance. His chest tightened with the unhappy realization that he would have no choice but to leave his friend behind and return to Achilles empty-handed.

"Will that satisfy you?" the Trojan's voice broke into his reflections.

Eudorus gruffly cleared his throat. "It would satisfy me to leave with him at my side; but seeing that you will not relinquish him, I suppose this will have to suffice. Until we meet again, Prince Hector." He forced a stiff nod in acknowledgement of the other's rank before retreating back to his chariot.

When Eudorus returned to the ships with his report, Achilles awaited him with legendary impatience; and as expected, the warlord was hardly as trusting as his subordinate in regard to Hector's intentions.

"The prince is not without honor," Eudorus explained carefully, "and I sensed no ill will from him when he spoke of Patroclus. He believes the boy is my favorite slave and nothing more; perhaps he truly does mean him no harm."

But Achilles shook his head, exasperated and anxious. "That still doesn't explain why Hector would take him in the first place. I cannot believe that this was somehow done from the generosity of his own heart."

"Even so," Odysseus reflected, "if Hector's motives are noble on the whole, then Troy may be a safe place for Patroclus after all – provided his true relationship with Achilles remains a secret. So for now, I suggest we let these events play out as the gods intend, as difficult as that will be for you, my friend."

"I will keep myself occupied on the battlefield, beginning tomorrow," declared the warrior with murderous intent. Never mind that his priestess remained in the clutches of Agamemnon! Their feud seemed such a petty matter now, with his cousin captured and striving for anonymity in the heart of Troy.

The Ithacan King smiled wearily. "It will be good to have you back, Achilles. But I must urge you to stay away from Hector out there as much as possible, just in case temptation should get the better of you. Remember, the less he knows of your interest in Patroclus, the safer the boy will be. Whatever the reasons, he has apparently placed your cousin under his protection; but if Hector should die in combat, Patroclus may very well fall into less friendly hands."

* * *

Meanwhile, Patroclus had seen the conclusion of Hector's visit with Eudorus from up on the pavilion. He had wanted so badly to call out or wave to his friend, yet he had restrained the childish impulse, knowing how fruitless any such gesture would be. He could tell that both men were looking up at him intently, but he had been too far away to read the expression on Eudorus' face. He had been excited to see him at first, hoping that just maybe he would be able to change Hector's mind in all of this – only to watch helplessly as Eudorus left with his head bowed low.

Despair had settled on his chest like a deadweight then, crushing his every breath, and now awoke a fierce, desperate desire to simply tell Hector the truth. Perhaps he could appeal to the man's nobility and beg to be returned to his guardian, who surely would never let him fight again – possibly ever, in light of Patroclus' disobedience. But deep down, he knew it could not be so.

Revealing the truth at this late stage would only make matters worse for everyone. As much as he may want to, he could not bank on Hector's claims of friendship if they were weighed against the wellbeing of Troy; the prince would never sacrifice that latter for the sake of the former. Despite his kindness thus far, Hector was not such a fool that he would allow Patroclus to leave the city after being told of his true value to Achilles.

Not to mention Patroclus would also lose the better part of Hector's trust, once the older man knew of his deception from the very beginning. It was strangely sad now to think of shattering their remarkable intimacy. What shock and hurt would appear on Hector's face if he ever learned the depth of Patroclus' betrayal! After all, in his own heart, the prince was only trying to help his friend and repay a debt.

With all this simmering in mind, Patroclus was on the verge of tears by the time Hector came to him after the rendezvous with Eudorus. The prince had lodged his prisoner-turned-servant inside the palace, situated very near to the quarters of the royal family.

"I wish to see you as often as possible," Hector had told him, "and I don't necessarily trust my countrymen to treat you as kindly as you deserve."

Now his captor's brown eyes, when they landed on him, radiated such a tender sympathy that it made Patroclus want to scream.

"Are you really so homesick already?"

The dejected youth hung his head and blinked furiously to dry his eyes. "Those men are the only family I've known for years," he answered miserably.

Hector's lips pursed in a grim line before he replied, "The Myrmidons must be a kinder lot away from the battlefield, then."

Patroclus offered a meek shrug. "Most of them are; Eudorus really is a good man."

"I admire your loyalty, Patroclus – especially to a master who was not of your choosing. But Eudorus will survive without you."

Eudorus would, yes. But what about Achilles?

When answered only with silence, the Trojan continued, "I know you miss your comrades, but again, I promise I will watch over you here. Now tell me, what sort of duties did you perform for Eudorus?"

Instantly, Patroclus' self-pity turned to panic. Duties for Eudorus? He hadn't given it any thought previously, and now he felt like such a fool as he floundered for something to say, stuttering and stumbling over his words. He cringed internally. Hector must think him totally incompetent!

"Just odds and ends, really – whatever he asked of me; he's not the most organized man. I often took care of his weapons and armor." It was true he knew plenty about those things, and such skills might transition smoothly into a squire sort of role here. It was the best he could hope for, at any rate, and thankfully, Hector appeared satisfied with that answer.

Patroclus had been given a small room not far from Hector's own chambers, recently vacated by Astyanax's wet nurse now that he had outgrown her. It wasn't much, to be sure, but at least it provided a little privacy. Patroclus tried to be grateful for that late at night, when he still had to bite down on his tears of bitter frustration to prevent them from being heard.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** Wishing a very happy belated birthday to my friend, **Trollmela**! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 6**

In Hector's estimation, Patroclus was adapting well enough to his new role as a prince's attendant, although a less patient man could have found fault with his performance. He worked hard and had a quick mind, but Hector would have expected the boy to go about his tasks with greater surety, a result of prior familiarity and repetition. Even so, he was learning fast and seemed grateful for anything that kept his hands busy as the sun circled over Troy time and time again.

Where Hector could not identify any improvement, however, was in the youth's solemn and dejected demeanor. He made feeble efforts to brighten his countenance when in the presence of his new master, yet the prince suspected that Patroclus was all but drowning in the depths of his loneliness. And so Hector's own guilt began to gnaw at him, despite all his inner arguments that had done an honorable deed in bringing Patroclus to Troy.

As a result, he started spending more and more time with the boy in an effort to assuage his stinging conscience, even at the risk of neglecting his family and other friends. Patroclus' genuine smiles upon seeing him were ample reward for any sacrifice on Hector's part. All the same, the prince couldn't help but notice the prickling discomfort of his countrymen's regard whenever he and Patroclus were out in public together, and he had no doubt the boy could sense it as well. Not that Patroclus ever complained, of course; he probably feared that any mention of it would push his only friend farther away.

Hector had to admit his surprise, though, when even his father questioned his interest in this latest acquisition.

"We both know you don't really need the boy, and there is no reason for you to keep him so close," Priam confronted him one morning, sounding puzzled. "At the very least, why not make a good profit by selling him? There would be plenty of interested parties for a strong, handsome youth like him. Or, better yet, you could give him to an ally of ours as a gesture of goodwill – someone who would ultimately take him away from the city."

Hector bristled privately for a moment, unsure which horrible recommendation to address first. To suggest selling Patroclus was bad enough, but the thought of _giving_ him away as a means of garnering political favor with an ally was absolutely appalling. The prince's protective instincts reared up like a cobra, ready to strike, and he had to remind himself that Priam was only trying to act rationally. He knew _nothing_ of Patroclus' true relationship with his son.

Hoping to end this discussion quickly, Hector cleared his throat and declared, "With all due respect, Father, the boy is my prisoner, and I would prefer to keep him in my possession for the time being." He had almost said "my charge," only to catch his errant tongue at the last moment; that would have been a little too revealing. "He is still so young and has done nothing to warrant our treating him like a criminal, even if he is a Greek."

"You allow that boy far too much freedom for a captive soldier, Hector," Priam chastised sternly, a hint of warning in his voice now. "I can't imagine where you discovered this blind trust for an enemy, but such softness is hardly fitting for a Crown Prince. The wellbeing of your own people must take priority over any personal interest you may have in this foreigner."

Hector bit down on his tongue for good this time. Did his father not hear the hypocrisy in those words? How dare he lecture Hector about the value of Trojan lives, when he had scarcely batted an eye over Paris carrying Helen off from Sparta?

But even the king's harsh words didn't sting nearly as much as the realization that Andromache appeared to be distancing herself from her husband of late. Such little signs (as women are wont to give) that several days passed before Hector even realized something was amiss. And when he did notice, he attributed her melancholy to the war and the omnipresent threat of death to her loved ones. It was hardly an uncommon state for Andromache these days, given her family past; but when Hector's usual attentions and methods of reassurance failed to comfort her, he knew that the true root of her distress lay elsewhere.

And so he sat beside her on their bed late one evening, gently taking her hand in his own as she stared down at a sleeping Astyanax. The baby's thumb had slipped out of his mouth at some point since falling asleep, but his lips still moved as though seeking to recover it. When a few heartbeats passed in silence and Andromache still hadn't looked over at him, Hector began.

"My love, I know something is troubling you. Tell me, please, what's wrong?"

He could see Andromache biting down on the inside of her lip as she debated how much to share with him.

"You and I have no secrets to hide from one another," he urged her quietly. "You know you can tell me anything without fear."

At length, his soft, compelling words prompted a response from the beautiful woman at this side, although she still refused to look him in the eye as she divulged in a hushed voice, "It's that boy – the Greek you brought back to the city a few weeks ago. You spend more time with that slave than you do with your own child."

So she had noticed too, then. Andromache truly did sound hurt, not to mention confused, and Hector could well understand why. He should have expected this from her and considered long ago how she might perceive his strange behavior, without understanding the reasons behind it. But then the prince was suddenly stung as his own words of moments before came lashing back to strike him in the chest.

 _No secrets._

The guilt threatened to swallow him then, and Hector knew, for better or for worse, that had had to tell her the truth. After all, if he couldn't trust his own wife, then he might as well have perished back in that lonely ravine.

He chose his next words with tremendous care, and now it was he who struggled to meet her eye. "I'm sorry, Andromache. I just said that you and I have no secrets, and yet…I confess that I have kept one from you all this time."

Now she looked at him, alarm and apprehension shining in her dark eyes.

Hector went on, "I am willing to share it with you now, but you must promise me that you won't tell another soul. Not even my father knows this, nor do I want him to just yet."

Andromache still looked wary, her lips pressed in a thin line, yet she nodded her agreement readily enough.

"My love – that boy is the only reason I'm still alive, the only reason I'm sitting here with you right now. When I was missing all those weeks, wounded and alone, he found my hiding place; and instead of handing me over to Achilles, like he should have done, he helped me. My father credits the gods for my salvation, but the truth is that I, the Crown Prince of Troy, owe my life to a lowly slave with a kind heart. I would have died many times over if not for him."

She stared at him in open wonder now, speechless until her newest confusion formed a question. "But…you didn't bring him home with you when you returned; it was later that you actually captured him."

"You're right. I was resigned to leave him with his Greek master at first, until I saw him out on the battlefield. He is far too young for combat, and I'm sure he could not have survived for long. I couldn't leave him out there to be cut down, not as long as I had some hope of helping him."

Hector's earnest voice and gaze implored her understanding. "I hope you will never believe that I care for him more than I do our son, but I understand that Astyanax is still too young to appreciate how much time his father does or doesn't spend with him. He is content as long as he has his mother. But right now, Patroclus needs me more; I fear he misses his comrades terribly, and he has no one else within these walls."

"He does now." A smile graced Andromache's face then, all shining empathy, and Hector's guilt melted in the warmth of that radiance. "I have already promised that I will safeguard your secret, but I also promise that I will be his friend for as long as he is in your care."

* * *

His position in Hector's household afforded Patroclus a startling amount of freedom inside the city, certainly more than should have been prudent for a prisoner of war like himself. Unfortunately, those privileges had brought him no closer to the escape that he so desperately desired. Hector treated him kindly, or course, and he had never known fear in the man's formidable presence – but that didn't change the fact that Patroclus had never wanted to be here.

He still kept one eye open at all times for possible escape routes, only to realize with dismay that Troy was as much a fortress from within as from without. Furthermore, he was so easily recognized by now as "that Greek prisoner whom Prince Hector brought back for reasons unknown" that he had no hope of quietly slipping out of the city undetected.

But the biggest surprise of his stay in Troy came when Prince Hector's wife subtly caught him by the arm one afternoon and led him back to the privacy of her own rooms, away from curious eyes. Although they had never been personally introduced, he knew who she was, and fresh anxiety rolled in his stomach as she sealed the door shut behind them. Hector had been spending an awful lot of time with his new captive recently, and if Andromache perceived any reason for jealousy, she wielded more than enough influence to cause trouble for the young Greek. He kept his eyes on the floor, uneasy.

"Patroclus?"

Frowning at the unexpected use of his name, he dared to glance up – and was at once amazed to see gratitude beaming back at him from each lovely feature of her face.

"Thank you." Without further preamble, she pressed his hand between her two slender, delicate ones and leaned in close to kiss him on the cheek.

Patroclus gasped involuntarily and almost flinched away from her. Instead, his limbs froze while his heart sped. He hadn't felt anything like that in years – literally. It reminded him all too much of his mother, making him think of her (and miss her) as he'd not done in a long time. A soft hand, a tender kiss, a whisper of perfume…nothing at all like the firm, blunt gestures of affection he'd come to know from his cousin.

Thankfully, if Andromache was astute enough to note his discomfort, she was also generous enough to overlook it. "Thank you for my husband's life! Hector told me everything you did for him, and I cannot thank you enough."

"Why thank me?" he stammered, still a bit stunned as he finally realized what this was all about. "Because I wasn't heartless enough to kill a wounded man in cold blood?"

It felt terribly awkward for him to accept this woman's gratitude, her affections. If only she knew who he truly was, how quickly that glowing look on her face would vanish!

"If there is anything I can do to make your time here more comfortable, Patroclus, you need only to ask," she offered warmly. "Our family will be forever in your debt."

 _None of it will matter if Achilles kills Hector before the war is over._

Patroclus thought the words, but he wisely refrained from speaking them aloud. And since all he wanted in this city was to get _out_ of it, he boldly asked, "Can you persuade Hector to let me go?"

Her patient smile conveyed the answer long before her words. "That is perhaps the one thing I cannot help you with. My husband is a very loyal man, and he has made it his duty to protect you. He must believe he can do that best from inside the city."

"I would be safer with my own countrymen."

"If that were so, you would still be there. But before you decide to hate your life here altogether, Patroclus, just remember that the favor of the Crown Prince goes a long way."

After that encounter, Hector's immediate family started working their way into Patroclus' guarded heart. Maybe it was because he saw more of Andromache and little Astyanax, now that the lady trusted him so entirely. Even old King Priam seemed a respectable, honorable man, from what Patroclus could see of him. He would need to be in order to raise a son like Hector – but that didn't explain how Paris had come about.

Patroclus couldn't even pretend to harbor any goodwill or sympathy toward Troy's younger prince. This was all his and Helen's fault in the first place! He seethed with silent anger whenever he saw either of them from a distance, and apparently Paris felt much the same way, if the stony, appraising glares he sent Patroclus' way were any indicator. No doubt he was another jealous Trojan relative who felt that Hector was far too friendly and accommodating toward his newest slave. Patroclus didn't care; in this case, he was more than happy to commandeer Hector's time and attention.

He chanced to cross paths with Helen once, when the armies were away in battle. She looked startled to see him at first, before putting on a charming smile to disarm her fellow Greek. She didn't bother to ask his name, which was probably for the best. Patroclus doubted she would recognize him as Achilles' kinsman, but he didn't care to risk it – not when he'd already done so much to keep his identity a secret.

"I see you have found favor in the eyes of my brother-in-law," Helen commented lightly. "Hector treats you more like an honored guest than a prisoner."

His cold reply took no effort. "Your brother-in-law is the High King of Greece. Had you remembered that, thousands of Greeks and Trojans would still be alive today."

A shadow passed over the golden sunshine of Helen's countenance, and she lowered her voice to warn him, "Be careful what you say here. Remember, you're still a captive and a slave in your enemy's stronghold."

"Go ahead and threaten," he challenged, feeling bold and a little reckless. "What will you do? What's one more death to your conscience now? Besides, you're a prisoner in this place as much as I am; neither of us can escape the consequences of what we've done."

It must have been the right thing to say, because she offered no response – just hung her head as though every soul lost in the war was indeed a weight around her neck; and when he turned his back to walk away from her, she didn't follow. Maybe he had said too much there at the end, but she was far too entrenched in her own guilty quagmire to notice his slip.

 **Author's End Note:** I believe I can squeeze the end of this story into just one more chapter, but there's a lot of work left to be done. I'm not even sure how I'm going to end it yet, so wish me luck. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **Author's Note:** So this is not the final chapter after all. Resolving Patroclus' predicament is turning into a rather wordy affair, so I'm cutting this chapter off before the grand finale. And fortunately, I have finally figured out how I'm going to end this little adventure! Took me long enough. I suppose this chapter also merits a gentle warning for some adult themes, but it's really all a big mess of implications and misunderstandings, as you'll see. Enjoy!

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 7**

The sun's rays had scarcely appeared in the East when Hector stole out of his own chambers, intent on visiting Patroclus before another bustling day ran away from them. He hoped to have an honest, private conversation about how the boy was doing, now that he had been in the city for over a month. Hector slipped inside the small room, only to see that Patroclus was still asleep. Deeply asleep, by the look of it, although even now that young face still seemed troubled.

"Patroclus?" Hector gave the boy's shoulder a reluctant nudge. "Patroclus?"

The youth scrunched up his nose in protest and tried to shrug off the unwelcome touch, murmuring into his pillow, "Not now."

Hector had to suppress a smile at that. Would Eudorus have tolerated such indolence from his slave? He tried again, "Patroclus, wake up."

But Patroclus only groaned, still half-asleep, and muttered, "Achilles, stop, please…"

Whatever amusement Hector might have felt over the situation vanished in an instant. Achilles? Why in all of Hades or Olympus would Patroclus believe that _Achilles_ was waking him up? He belonged to Eudorus, after all!

But then something cold and solid settled in the pit of Hector's stomach. How many times had he seen a shadow and a grimace pass over the young Greek's face whenever Achilles' name was mentioned? And hadn't Patroclus appeared utterly at a loss for words when asked to describe his regular duties for Eudorus? Hector had always thought these things strange, but only now did he consider that there might be something greater hidden underneath it all.

The prince shook his head, more unsettled by this trail of thought than he cared to admit; surely following it could not lead to any pleasant conclusions in his imagination. So he withdrew as quietly as he had come and left Patroclus to continue sleeping in peace. With his mind in this suddenly-troubled state, Hector decided his talk with the boy could wait until a later time.

Unfortunately, his grim suspicions only increased during the next battle. Achilles had long since returned to the bloody field, and he was more of a menace than ever – the bane of many a brave and noble Trojan. And yet, for all that, he had curiously avoided Hector. Optimists in Troy claimed it was because Achilles knew he had finally met his match and was afraid. Hector himself, however, seriously doubted it.

And so it was all the more unusual when Achilles approached his Trojan rival at the day's conclusion; he kept his sword in hand, though he did not brandish it as if to fight. The Myrmidon lord paused a few generous paces apart and stared at him with such venom that Hector felt a sure chill run up his sweat-drenched spine.

"I have heard of your young prisoner, Prince of Troy. Tread carefully. If any harm comes to that boy, Eudorus will not be his only avenger."

Achilles' tone was dark with warning, but before Hector could utter a retort, the tawny Greek was gone.

Against his better judgment, Hector's thoughts flew back to those telling moments in Patroclus' room. He could no longer ignore his premonition that something was terribly wrong in all of this, particularly between Patroclus and Achilles. Was it possible, then, that this boy who'd befriended him and saved his life was actually Achilles' slave? And if so, what _manner_ of slave? Oh, all the gods forbid that his darkest fears be true! But why else would the mighty Achilles go to such lengths over any servant, if not for some sort of _personal_ attachment?

Hector suddenly felt sick.

More than anything, the prince loathed deceit, and he hated to think that Patroclus had felt it necessary to lie to him all this time in order to shield himself (or Achilles) from the revelation of some unpleasant truth. It hurt to think that that the boy still didn't trust him completely, but in a way, perhaps it was understandable.

Tomorrow morning, he would try to gently wake Patroclus again and thereby satisfy his morbid curiosity. If results repeated themselves, he would not walk away from them a second time. He would force Achilles into their conversation and press the subject as he'd never done before – all to gauge the youth's reaction. It would be an unpleasant task, no doubt, for himself as well as for Patroclus. Hector had no wish to embarrass the boy, yet it might be unavoidable in giving light to the truth.

* * *

When he finally relented to the kind yet persistent hand shaking him awake, Patroclus felt as though he'd only just fallen asleep. He felt that way a lot lately, as the incessant voices in his mind could only be silenced at night by sheer exhaustion.

He lifted a hand to rub his tired eyes, and when he opened them again, he at last registered that Hector was seated on the side of his bed. The prince had woken him, and judging by the worried frown on his face, it had not been an easy task.

Patroclus flushed as he sat upright, wondering if he was still young enough to blame his lethargy on a growing body. Achilles generously allowed him that excuse, although the man himself was hardly a model of early-morning energy.

"I'm sorry…" he started apologetically, but Hector interrupted.

"It's all right, my boy, you've done nothing wrong; it is still very early." The Trojan shifted where he sat but didn't move away. Patroclus had never seen him look so uneasy before, almost nervous, as he gathered the words to continue. "But I wanted to see you privately and let you know that Achilles spoke to me on the battlefield yesterday. He mentioned you."

"Oh? That's…odd." His mouth suddenly dry, Patroclus found he could no longer meet the older man's eyes. He silently prayed Hector would let the topic drop after that, but of course, the gods would not be so merciful this morning.

"Achilles has been…unkind to you. Hasn't he, Patroclus?"

Hector's voice was even softer now, and the boy had to clench his hands into fists to conceal how they trembled. His heart pounded so loudly he thought surely Hector would hear it in the oppressive stillness surrounding them.

"What makes you say that?" he whispered back. In a dark, ironic corner of his mind, he could imagine Achilles saying it was too early for this sort of talk.

The prince leaned forward now, his expression earnest. "Patroclus, be honest with me – please. Whom do you truly belong to?"

"Eudorus," Patroclus answered, a little too quickly. Hector clearly didn't believe him.

"Then why is there such fear in your eyes every time we speak of Achilles? And why, when you wake up, are your first thoughts only for him?"

The blood drained from Patroclus' face, leaving him dizzy and light-headed as he grasped Hector's most disturbing implications. What a horrible misunderstanding had sprung from his deceptions now! He opened his mouth to deny it – but how could he do so without revealing the truth that must remain hidden at all cost? The truth that his calling for Achilles was as innocent and natural as Astyanax reaching for Andromache's hand in sleep?

It was embarrassing to let Hector's suspicions go unchecked, but to refute them would only put himself and his cousin in a _more_ precarious position. And so the vicious cycle had caught him again.

Eventually, when his companion refused to say more, he managed a very weak denial. "Achilles has always treated me well, for a slave; he's not as cruel as you think."

"The struggle in your eyes begs to differ, Patroclus." The open sympathy in Hector's voice made the youth's stomach turn. "You don't need to protect him."

 _But I do!_ he thought miserably. _That's the whole point of this unhappy charade._

"I am not his slave, Hector." Patroclus could speak firmer this time, because it _was_ true. But it wasn't enough to placate the Trojan prince.

"You wouldn't have to be. Didn't you tell me once that Achilles will take what he wants, regardless of whether or not it is his to take?"

This time he tried to evade the question by asking one of his own. "Are you going to confront him out there yourself?"

"Are you going to tell me I shouldn't?"

"Yes." Patroclus held Hector's gaze now, perfectly serious. "He will kill you if you fight him single-handedly, and…I don't want that to happen."

There was another truth; he didn't want to see Achilles or Hector fall in this war now. And it seemed his ongoing silence was the best way to protect them all…but he hated it, especially when this latest turn of events cast such a poor light on his guardian.

Hector must have seen some inner struggle reflected on his face, but again, he misinterpreted the source of the pain.

"He has hurt you." It wasn't a question this time.

Patroclus couldn't respond now, with a solid lump lodged in his throat. At this point, just thinking about Achilles was painful enough, much less talking about him. He looked away.

Hector gently took hold of the boy's troubled face, hands cradling his neck with genuine affection. Patroclus closed his eyes and briefly let himself relax into that touch – until the word "cousin" very nearly escaped his lips, and then he could barely repress the urge to rip himself out of Hector's grasp. It was no fault of the prince's, but with his eyes closed, Patroclus would think those were Achilles' callused, war-worn hands!

"Don't be afraid, my young friend. You are safe here." Hector tightened his grip on the boy's nape. "I have promised that I will protect you with my own life, and if I have my way in this war, you need never see Achilles again."

Patroclus choked back the involuntary sob that rose in his throat, but he couldn't staunch his tears altogether. Let Hector see them and draw his own twisted conclusions! Let him believe he had uncovered some shameful secret. In this place, it was better to live with an ugly lie than a dangerous truth. Patroclus didn't resist when the Trojan drew him into a careful but close embrace, waiting until the tears subsided. He sagged against the older man, exhausted anew and determined to take whatever comfort could be had on a wretched morning like this.

* * *

All the same, despite Hector's kindness, Patroclus felt he had finally reached his breaking point a few days later, lying in bed unable to sleep once more. It was late, but Hector would likely still be awake. And so Patroclus decided to seek him out and confess everything. He knew this still wasn't wise; he _knew_ it! No matter how badly he wanted to trust in Hector's mercy, it was lunacy to hope that the man wouldn't use him against Achilles in some way – but he was so tired of the lies. They smothered him so much that at times it was difficult to even breathe.

The young Greek slipped outside and felt like he was stepping into a dream world rather than dusty Trojan streets. But he hadn't gone far before movement in the corner of his eye made him pause and look; it was Hector, leading Andromache out into the night with purpose in his steps.

Intrigued, Patroclus felt his drowsy senses sharpen, and he followed after them. Shameless snooping and spying like this ought to have been beneath him. He really should just return to bed and accept this as a sign from the gods that he wasn't meant to follow through on his foolish impulse tonight; but instead he kept following, all the while wary of being spotted by any palace guards.

He needed to stay back at such a distance that he couldn't overhear their conversation, but Hector's intentions became obvious enough when the couple reached their destination. After weaving through a labyrinth of alleyways and corridors, the prince stopped at an obscure doorway which opened to reveal a tunnel. Of course! It made sense that the royal family would have a secret escape route available to them, in case the worst should happen. Perhaps Hector had been unnerved by his recent encounter with Achilles, and now, for his own peace of mind, he was making sure Andromache knew how to get out of the city if necessary.

And what a new temptation this presented for Patroclus! Now that he knew about the tunnel, he could easily escape on his own, without posing any risk to his cousin. But if he did, there would be no stopping Achilles' vengeance and fury against Troy's crown prince. Hector would soon die, and no entreating by Patroclus on his behalf would prevent it – so implacable was Achilles' rage. And if Hector died, the city's days would be numbered, putting the man's family in grave danger. He had never thought of it from that perspective before, not until a chance to escape was staring him right in the face.

Patroclus wouldn't mind so much if the rest of Troy burned, but he didn't want those few people to be caught up in the massacre. It was good that the family had a possible means of escape, but Hector, if he was alive, surely wouldn't use the tunnel himself. He'd die defending his city first, and Patroclus would have had an indirect hand in it. How he hated being stuck like this, caught in his own tangled web! Had he learned about the passageway weeks ago, it wouldn't have been such a difficult decision.

More days rolled by, and while Patroclus still didn't use the tunnel, he began to feel more helpless and more desperate with each setting sun. Ultimately, the way he saw it, he could either throw himself and Achilles on Hector's mercy, or he could throw Hector and his entire family on Achilles' mercy. Neither option seemed particularly appealing, and he didn't know how much longer he could shoulder this burden of feeling responsible for all those who were most dear to him.

 **Author's End Note:** Ah, the poor kid. Don't worry, Patroclus, only one more chapter to go now - I promise!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary:** Patroclus wants nothing more than a chance to kill his first Trojan. He soon learns to be more careful in his wishing. Movie-verse AU, starring Patroclus and Hector. Co-inspired by the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Troy, _The Iliad_ , or "How to Train Your Dragon" (the book or the movie).

 **How to Train your Trojan**

 **Chapter 8**

Meanwhile, down by the ships, Achilles had nearly driven himself mad with worry and pent-up energies. Unleashing his fury on the battlefield like a thunderstorm had helped temporarily, but it hadn't actually solved anything. Nearly two months had passed now, and Patroclus was still Hector's prisoner in Troy. Achilles knew he shouldn't have confronted the prince like he did the previous week. It had been excessively foolish on his part, not to mention dangerous; but after all this time, he couldn't help himself. The son of Peleus was not accustomed to feeling trapped or powerless in any sense!

Fortunately, Odysseus had taken pity on his friend and devised a scheme which, with a little help from their patroness Athena, would allow them to finally penetrate the city. Eudorus had all but begged to be included among the soldiers selected to hide inside Odysseus' construction, but Achilles had ordered him to stay with the other Myrmidons and lead them inside Troy at the appointed time with the rest of the Greek forces.

Once inside, the only directive for those under his command was to _find Patroclus_ , and Achilles himself would head straight to the royal palace with that goal in mind. Right now, all he wanted was to get his cousin out of Troy before ravaging flames reduced the city to ash.

* * *

A Horse? A giant, wooden _Horse_?

Patroclus didn't like it one bit, and he could tell Hector didn't, either.

At first, he had despaired when word spread that the Greek army had left the beach; but now that this Horse had been found and brought inside the city, his suspicions prickled like a persistent itch. Having spent time in the Greek camp, he couldn't believe that Agamemnon, who had waged a battle of wills against Achilles, would be driven away by pestilence in any form; he was far too proud and too stubborn for that!

Patroclus didn't sleep again that night, but not for the usual reasons; he just lay there wide awake in the dark, thinking about the Horse. He couldn't honestly say he was surprised later, when the far-off shrieks of women reached his ears. Greeks were inside the walls, and the Trojan War was as good as over. Whether or not that was a good thing for him personally, remained to be seen.

He got up without thinking and ran toward Hector's chambers. The prince himself was absent, but Andromache was already awake and dressed, bundling up Astyanax in her arms.

"Patroclus…"

"Come on," he urged her, interrupting. "There's no time to waste, you must hurry!"

She obeyed and followed him outside. "Do you know where Hector is?"

The youth shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him. But if he was here, I know he would want to get you safely out of the city ahead of him."

The only pause he allowed in their flight was so that Andromache could pound on the doors they passed and rouse as many people as possible to follow them. However, even that began to take too much time, and Patroclus had to put an end to it. He grabbed Andromache by the wrist and led their growing group of refugees toward the tunnel at a jog. She moved with him easily, never once questioning how he knew the way to their escape.

"Go on, quickly!" he ordered when they had arrived. He recognized many of the faces that hurried by him into the passageway, and found himself unexpectedly grateful that each of them at least had a chance to survive the night. Except perhaps Helen and Paris.

But Andromache still clung to his arm, looking torn, and Patroclus could guess her dilemma easily enough.

"I'm going to find Hector," he told her simply, "and I won't come back here without him. I promise."

"Thank you." Battling tears of worry and gratitude alike, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I hope this isn't goodbye forever, Patroclus."

He didn't know how to respond to that; his greatest hope right now was for her family's safety, regardless of whatever happened to him in the coming moments. So he only said, "You need to go. If there's anything I can do to send Hector safely after you, I swear I'll do it."

And then he ran off, with the pain of yet another parting stinging in his chest. He would indeed look for Hector, as promised; but if he happened to find Achilles first, he would search no further.

* * *

As it turned out, he did find Hector first, and with surprisingly little effort. Patroclus had taken a back road to get away from the palace, quiet even now with chaos on all sides, while Hector had come the same way approaching the palace. They practically bumped into one another, resulting in immediate and unabashed relief to see that the other was unharmed thus far.

"Patroclus, there you are! Thank Apollo." Hector promptly grabbed the youth's elbow and began steering him back the way he'd come. "The Greeks are inside, and I've organized what defenses I can to serve as the city's last stand. I know it's only a matter of time now. But before I do anything else, I've got to make sure my family is safe."

"They are!" Patroclus interjected, pulling back just hard enough to make Hector pause. "They're already in the secret tunnel, I promise. I saw them there safely myself."

The prince squeezed his arm, this time in gratitude. "Thank you, Patroclus; once again, I am in your debt. But how long have you known about that tunnel?"

Before Patroclus could awkwardly explain, there came the most welcome sound his ears had heard in two full months – Achilles, calling his name in the distance.

Passageway forgotten, the boy lunged toward the sound with wild hope and overpowering joy! But he went nowhere, as Hector still held his arm in an iron grip.

"Let me go!" he pleaded, struggling in vain to break free from the prince who was so much stronger. "Please, Hector, let me go to him!"

The youth doubled his efforts to get away now, but Hector responded in kind, wrapping both arms around him and stifling his struggles.

"Patroclus, stop this! Look at me."

Patroclus did as he was told, growing quiet in the arms of a man he couldn't possibly overpower. Hector still didn't release him, yet the prince's voice was unspeakable tender when he said, "You don't have to listen to him, Patroclus. No matter what he's done to you in the past, he has no claim over you now. Don't let your fear of him control you. Come away with us! You don't owe Achilles anything."

"But I do!" the boy cried, too distraught to notice the fresh tears welling in his eyes. With Achilles so close, there was no turning back now! "Hector, Achilles _is_ my cousin, my guardian; I've been in his care ever since I was orphaned seven years ago."

Now Hector let go, stepping back and staring at the young Greek as though he had never seen him before. That alone hurt Patroclus far more than it should have.

"I'm sorry." He was fully aware how desperate and pitiful he sounded, but he couldn't bring himself to care – not when Achilles was likely moving farther away with every moment. "I'm sorry I lied to you all this time; I was just trying to protect him – and myself. But even using me as a hostage won't do you any good now. It's too late! Troy is fallen, and Achilles is here. Don't be brave to the point of foolishness, Hector."

But the prince stood still, shock and hurt warring across his face as he reeled at the revelation. "Did you help them get inside the walls tonight?"

Patroclus took the words like a blow to the stomach, appalled by the mere suggestion. He even had to recover his breath before adamantly replying, "No, of course not! How could you even think that? I admit I knew about the tunnel, but there must have been men hidden inside the Horse. I only stayed here so long because I knew Achilles would kill you if I went back to him – but there's only so much I can do to protect you from him now. Please, go after your family and get out of here while you still can! There's no hope for the city, only for a handful of her people if you _hurry_. I will delay my cousin as long as I can and keep him away from the tunnel. I swear it, even if my word means nothing to you now!"

Hector huffed a little, although the tension in his shoulders seemed to lessen. "Trying to save my life again, are you?"

For Patroclus, that morsel of humor was like water in the desert! "You are my friend, Hector. I was never lying about that."

"Nor was I." A tired smile now, like a pardon. "But will you admit as much to Achilles?"

The boy shrugged. "I suppose so. You know the whole truth now, and he deserves the same."

"I'm sorry I accused him of…"

When the prince actually grimaced, Patroclus almost laughed. "It's all right, I can't blame you for assuming. You knew there was _something_ between us."

"I'm sure he will be angry when he finds out what you've done for me." Hector hesitated briefly before adding, "You could still come with us, you know."

"I know," the youth acknowledged, "but I really can't. I've said it all along, my place is with my countrymen – and my kinsman. He may be angry, like you said, but I'm not afraid of him."

Sensing that was the final word on the matter, Hector nodded with a resigned sigh. "So be it, then. Farewell for the second time, Patroclus."

The Trojan stepped forward with arms open, and Patroclus didn't hesitate to walk into the proffered embrace. Thank the gods he was going to part with this man on friendly terms! The regret of any other outcome would have haunted him to the end of his days. He felt Hector plant a kiss of blessing on his brow, but in that exact moment…

"Patroclus?"

The boy jerked his head away from Hector and turned toward the sound.

There stood Achilles, looking furious enough to cower Zeus himself. Clearly, he had seen the embrace between Hector and his cousin, only to reach a dangerously wrong conclusion. And Patroclus could only conclude that the gods must be punishing him for his deceit. Why else could he not be rid of these woeful misunderstandings?

But now he had bigger problems to worry about, as Achilles had drawn his sword and was marching toward Hector with murder in his eyes. Patroclus had _never_ seen his guardian so livid, not even when Agamemnon had stolen his priestess. Beside him, Hector drew his own weapon, and Patroclus knew he had to act fast. If these two great warriors came to blows, even he might not be able to stop the fight before one of them was killed. Under different circumstances, he might have laughed at the irony that they were both so intent on protecting him from the other.

Admittedly panicked and lacking any better ideas, Patroclus rushed in front of his cousin and threw his arms around the older man's neck. Achilles, confused, tried half-heartedly to push him away, but Patroclus clung to him like a barnacle, desperate to impede his deadly progress toward Hector.

"Cousin, stop, please! Leave him alone, don't do this!"

His position against Achilles quickly morphed into a shameless hug, something he had longed for above all the treasures in Troy. But still Patroclus refused to let go, both for his own sake and for Hector's. He hid his tear-stained face against Achilles' shoulder now, begging into his ear.

"I'm all right, I swear, he's never hurt me. Just let me explain, please! Please, Achilles…"

And gracious Athena, he knew he had finally gotten through when he felt Achilles lower his sword arm start returning the embrace. The warlord glared at Hector over his charge's head all the while, daring him to approach or to even think about trying to separate them. He then gave Patroclus a rather possessive kiss of his own on the exact same spot as Hector just moments before.

Had this not been the first blessed contact with his cousin in two months, Patroclus would have rolled his eyes; even he knew how jealous and downright petulant his guardian could be at times. Furthermore, knowing Achilles' volatile temper, Patroclus would have preferred to break the truth to him more gently; but that wasn't an option now. He pulled away and cautiously stepped back, keeping himself squarely between the two men but still facing his kinsman.

"Cousin, Prince Hector is my friend."

"Your friend?" Achilles sneered in disgust. "Are you really so fond of your captor now?"

"He was my friend before I was his captive."

When that gave Achilles pause, Patroclus finally explained, "Three months ago, I found him wounded and stranded behind the Greek lines. Even after I learned who he was, I couldn't have his death on my head – not like that. So I kept him hidden and later helped him escape back to the city. I'm not sorry I did it, but I am sorry I deceived you for so long."

Achilles' eyes darted back and forth between the prince and his cousin, suspicious. "That doesn't explain why you ended up here."

"But it does! The one day I fought, he saw me and brought me back to Troy for my own safety. Up until tonight, he believed I was Eudorus' slave, and he thought I was being forced to fight. He only wanted to repay my kindness and protect me after I had helped him. I never dreamed anything like this would happen, back when I first found him."

Patroclus stopped there to let his guardian absorb the truth; the warrior didn't respond, his expression difficult to read.

"Please, Achilles," the boy entreated at length, "just let him go. I swear, Hector never harmed me, nor meant any harm to me in all of this! He's my friend."

Achilles still didn't speak right away, yet neither did he move as though to attack the prince again. Finally, he addressed Hector in a cold voice. "I cannot forgive you for keeping my cousin from me, Prince of Troy, no matter what your intentions might have been – but I will give you a chance to escape, for his sake. Go look for your father, if you will, but I doubt you'll find him still alive. And if I see your face again inside this city, I swear you will join him."

Grief and rage alike rose to Hector's countenance at the mention of King Priam, but deep down, he knew he was doomed to lose any battle against Achilles. Once again, only Patroclus' intervention had saved his life up to this point, and he would not be given this golden opportunity again.

"Go, Hector," the younger Greek urged anxiously. "Please, there's no time, you've got to get out of here!"

But the prince lingered, as if he still didn't trust that Patroclus would be safe if left behind in the Lion's claws; and only with great reluctance did he bow his head. "Thank you for everything, my friend. There is no counting how many times I owe you my life now."

"Goodbye, Hector. The gods go with you and your family."

As he watched the Prince of Troy retreat at last, Patroclus knew he would never see the man again, and their final farewell left an aching emptiness in his chest. He then looked back to Achilles, who regarded him quizzically.

"You bargained for the Trojan's safety, but not your own. Do you not fear me at all right now, Patroclus? What you did could easily be considered treason; you even called him 'friend'."

"Because he is. You taught me about honor, Cousin. I know I betrayed your trust when I helped him, but I hope you can understand my reasons. There would have been no honor either in killing him in that ravine or in leaving him there to die. But believe me, I spent every day here in Troy wishing I was with you instead! That's where I belong – if you will have me back again."

"You should not have sent your friend away so quickly if you had any doubts about my receiving you."

"I don't doubt you, Achilles. I just hope you don't have any reason to doubt me."

It was the right thing to say, apparently, because his kinsman's stony expression melted into one of amusement instead.

"Did that man care for you no better than his horse? You look ill, Cousin."

Patroclus sighed tiredly. "I haven't been sleeping well lately, but that's my own fault, not Hector's. The only thing he ever denied me was my freedom – and you."

"For that alone, I should have killed him – except that it would have caused you grief." Achilles' arm went around his shoulders then, guiding him away in the opposite direction. "Come, there are others who will also want to see you."

A hearty greeting from Odysseus followed shortly thereafter, but Patroclus was unprepared for the full embrace that welcomed him when he was reunited with Eudorus. Such open displays of affection weren't typical of the man's reserved demeanor, and so it was a touching show of emotion. Patroclus had always considered Eudorus to be a friend of sorts, yet he wouldn't have expected his absence to cause the veteran Myrmidon such distress.

Nonetheless, Eudorus' relief was all-pervasive and palpable – as was his guilt over "losing" Patroclus to Hector in the first place.

"I'm so sorry I let him take you!" he apologized for at least the tenth time. "I should have been more careful with you once I realized you were on the field."

"It's all right, Eudorus." Patroclus tried very hard not to make light of his comrade's angst, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to smile. "I told you, I'm perfectly fine. Hector treated me well, even though I was technically his slave."

"Did you tell him that you belonged to me, like we had talked about?"

This time, the younger Greek couldn't hold back a curt laugh. "Yes, and it probably saved Achilles a lot of trouble – but it still made life awfully difficult for me!"

Patroclus decided there that he would tell Eudorus the truth too, if only to put the man's conscience at ease. But not yet; not until they were all safely home in Phthia, and the bloody sands of Troy were little more than a memory.

 **Author's End Note:** And this is definitely **The End.** I had a lot of fun with this fic, and I so appreciate all your support along the way! I was very, very tempted to let Achilles kill Hector here at the finale, and/or to let Paris show up at the last minute and shoot Achilles. But fortunately for everyone, I decided that Patroclus had already suffered enough and didn't need even more angst piled onto his shoulders for this one story. Thanks for reading!


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